by Marianne Szlyk
The dolphins are swimming
past the cruise ships
and fishing boats.
The harbor is slick with motor oil.
The coral beyond is bleached white,
the color of vinyl siding
and new concrete.
It crumbles as the tourists watch
the dolphins dive over and over.
Showing posts with label Marianne Szlyk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marianne Szlyk. Show all posts
Sunday, July 2, 2017
Sunday, August 21, 2016
The Drought Close to Home
by Marianne Szlyk
So close to the sea, the Scituate reservoir
contracts to shards of clouds and sky.
Smashed on thick mud, these shards
shrink from the tree trunks and stones
rising where water once flowed.
Humid air promises rain but does not
release it. Blue sky persists
though towering clouds form.
No storms arise,
even rumors of thunder
off the coast.
Afternoon sun
grinds the shards to dust.
So close to the sea, the Scituate reservoir
contracts to shards of clouds and sky.
Smashed on thick mud, these shards
shrink from the tree trunks and stones
rising where water once flowed.
Humid air promises rain but does not
release it. Blue sky persists
though towering clouds form.
No storms arise,
even rumors of thunder
off the coast.
Afternoon sun
grinds the shards to dust.
